I'm a killer; and I don't give a damn - excerpt

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
An excerpt from a book about a proffesional killer.

Submitted: June 25, 2008

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Submitted: June 25, 2008

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Some men fight for their country. Others fight selflessly for someone they love. Some fight for glory, and honour. For others, it is simply loyalty. I, however, fight purely for the will of a stranger, and the contents of their wallet. Many have described me as a greedy, selfish man, but I prefer to think of myself as a vigilante.
Sure, some of the men who I’ve killed may not have deserved as much as they got, and perhaps a few of them didn’t even deserve anything; but I did it anyway. I am a killer; and I don’t give a damn. I follow the instructions of my clients, but I am not a machine, and as for the ones who underestimated me? They got what was coming to them. A bullet with their name on it.
People who don’t know what I do wouldn’t have guessed that I kill people for a living, and a damn good living too. I meditate, do yoga; I even have a nine year old son. He doesn’t know what I do, and I only see him on Sundays, when I pick him up from his mother’s house in the hills. It’s a long drive, and sometimes I only end up having him for the evening before he goes back to his mother’s in the morning.
But I am still a compassionate man. I was married once, until she found out what I did, and I have saved a child’s life from his own stepfather. I am charitable, and forgiving – though my profession says otherwise – and have certainly given my fare share of money to the needy.  
Say what you like, but I know who I am, and I know what I am doing. And to be honest; I couldn’t care less.
Well, this is where I think I should start this story. It was one o’ clock in the morning, and I stood, bathing in the cold, artificial light of the street lamp, on Powell street. A rather normal looking suburban home stood across the road, soaked by a more orange coloured street lamp that cast shadows behind every obstacle. It had a brush fence, and a small, but well looked after garden visible through the gap in the fence, where a white station wagon was parked. The garden had a cobble pathway twisting through the shrubs to the front door. I started across the road, and came so close to a passing car that I could feel the cold wind against my face, followed by the heat and petroleum smell from the exhaust, but I still kept my eyes transfixed on my target.
I was about to walk through the gate, when the bright headlights of a sedan blinded me. I winced until it went away. I looked to either side of myself, and then walked through. The smell of assorted herbs filled the air, but was then overtaken by an awful smell, as a cat had retreated up a tree from me, and left a dead bird behind. I stepped over the poor creature, and found myself at the door. Then I looked up. A security camera swivelled around to see me, and an alarm went off within the house. Oh no, I thought to myself. I kicked at the door, and the hinges began to creak.
I kicked again and the whole door came loose. All it took was a push and it collapsed into the dark hallway. I couldn’t hear footsteps, because the alarm was making my eardrums shiver and shake. I looked down the hall that branched off into different rooms, and saw at the back; a man fleeing out into the backyard. I drew my gun and ran after him. I made it to the backyard, and saw him struggling to clamber over the trellis. I aimed my gun, but he clambered over too quick.
I made my way over the trellis much faster than he did, but I had to put my gun away, because now I was chasing him through the dark streets. Ahead of us, and girl was about to enter her land rover, but my victim pushed her aside, and grabbed the keys she had placed on the seat a moment earlier. He slammed the door behind him, and the headlights poured over me. He revved the engine twice, and then he was coming for me. I knew what I had to do. I drew my gun and began to run towards him again.
I jumped into the air at just the right moment, and landed on the floor, sliding. I tilted my head back, watched and felt the pressure of the car roll over the top of me. I kept my arms close to my sides to avoid the wheels. Once it had passed over me, I flipped myself up, and aimed my deadly weapon. A couple of accurate shots through the back window, and my bullet had been lodged in his skull. Carved on the side of the bullet, it said Ryan Hearse, and on the back it said Rex PI. That’s me. Richard ‘Rex’ Smith. The private investigator. I lowered my gun and put it back in my coat. I glared a glare at the only witness which said, ‘Tell anyone, and you’re next’.

This is what I do. I’m a goon, a contract killer, an assassin, a private eye and a thug. But more than any of these, I am Rex, Private Investigator.


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